


If You’re Unfaithful, Put Your Hands in the Air

by bottombeeb



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Brendon deserves better than him, Cheating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Ryan is a fucking dick, dont give a fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottombeeb/pseuds/bottombeeb
Summary: "I didn't expect you to be here tonight.""Clearly."Drabble #6 of our Ot3 Drabble Collection





	If You’re Unfaithful, Put Your Hands in the Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandon/gifts).

> Title from "The 'I' In Lie" by Patrick Stump

"I didn't expect you to be here tonight."

"Clearly."

Brendon tries to go for anger. Tries to make the word bitter and sharp, cutting when it falls from his tongue. But the hurt in his chest breaks his attempt down, makes it sound wounded and lost.

"Well I'm sorry," is Ryan's response and Brendon needs to close his eyes to breathe for a minute.

Ryan probably thinks that by apologizing, he can make everything okay. Brendon will accept his apology, and they’ll move on like nothing ever happened. But Brendon can read him so clearly. It’s not an ‘I’m sorry I cheated’, it’s an ‘I’m sorry I got caught’.

A girl’s laugh comes from not too far away, loud and sharp even above the pulsing of the club music, and Brendon wonders if it’s one of the girls from earlier.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, and this time the bitterness bites it’s way through.

It makes him so angry. So angry and lost and pathetic. And jealous. Not jealous of the girls, not jealous of the private table at the nightclub, not jealous of the white smudge under his boyfriend’s nose. Jealous of the fact that Ryan gets what he wants, and Brendon never did. Because Brendon has given up so much of what he’s wanted in the name of this relationship, and his heart hurts to think of what he could have had if he had just given up, if he had known it was going to end.  _ Who _ he could have had. 

He held on, stayed with this man he lived with and shared a life with, the one he had been with since he was a teenager, because he felt like this was the end game for his life. To be with Ryan, to get married to Ryan, to settle down and be happy, to live with this guy he had fallen so hard for when he was only 17. He sacrificed so much for him, assuming that the other guy was doing the same.

He thought of leaving once. There was someone he had fallen for, hard and fast and hopeless. He had dreams of breaking through the thin and unstable walls they had built up of their love in the name of someone with bright eyes and the sweetest smile. He almost had too, but his cold feet had kept him on ice long enough for that someone’s gaze to turn to another. In less than a year, Brendon’s heart had gone from hopeful and singing, to stung and burning from the glare of the sun off the guy he loved’s wedding ring.

And for what? What did he give up those smiles and that laugh for? For this? For almost a decade of fights and unhappiness? For a tan on his left ring finger that’s never going to change? For someone who can’t even have the decency to look guilty at being caught with his lips on a girl’s neck, and another’s head between his legs?

Ryan sniffs and rubs at his nose, oblivious to the inner turmoil Brendon is going through right now.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Ryan says with a shrug, like he doesn’t care either way, “or I can meet you back at home later.”

Brendon just stares at him in disbelief. It’s the nonchalant attitude that Ryan is putting on right now that makes it all click for him. The reason why Ryan isn’t having a bigger reaction is because this isn’t the first time. And it won’t be the last.

“I- Fuck, Ryan I can’t stay here,” Brendon breathes out, feeling exasperated and lost, “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Ryan asks, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation that Brendon is in, apparently all by himself.

“Us,” is all he can say, meaning to sound resolute, but it comes out shaky and broken.

It seems to take Ryan a second to get it. Maybe it’s because of the coke he’s been snorting, or maybe it’s because he never thought Brendon would have the backbone to stand up for himself. When he realizes what Brendon’s saying, he just raises an eyebrow, like Brendon’s the one acting out of line here.

“What, because of the girls?” he asks with a scoff, “don’t be an idiot, Bren.”

Brendon wants to scream. Wants to punch Ryan in his face. Wants to cause a scene in the middle of the club. Wants to run and not look back. Wants to break down and cry. Wants to let go and let himself fall apart. Wants…. Fuck he wants everything and nothing at the same time. Guess that’s what happens when you’re 27 and you realize that you’ve wasted almost ten years of your life on something that isn’t worth it. Something that you’re tearing down even as it falls apart around you.

But he doesn’t cause a scene, he closes his eyes and swallows hard around the lump in his throat, and when he opens his eyes again, he does nothing. Just takes a breath and turns around and walks out. He hears Ryan call his name as he walks away, but only once. There are no footsteps that follow him, no hand on his shoulder, no words of persuasion.

He gets all the way to his car before he breaks down, standing in the parking lot and holding onto the frame of the machine so he doesn’t go tumbling down. A desperate and shaky gasp reverberates in Brendon’s chest, and he covers his mouth with one hand to hold it in. It doesn’t work because another gasp falls, and then he's sliding himself down onto the pavement and letting it wash over him.

It feels like an hour before he finally gets himself under control enough to think, but it honestly could have only been mere minutes. With his knees pulled to his chest, sitting on the dirty ground as he sobs, he’s lost track of time. He feels stupid and pathetic, but he manages to haul himself up and get his trembling and heavy body into the drivers seat of his car.

Chest tight, heart pounding, hands shaky, ears ringing, he feels like he’s falling apart. He stares at the steering wheel, where his hands had instinctively grabbed the angles of ten and two and had gripped the plastic so hard his knuckles are turning white. With a heavy breath, he forces himself to relax, to let the wheel go. He doesn’t know where he’s going anyway. Most of his friends are also Ryan’s friends, and he really doesn’t want to be around them tonight. God, most of his friends are also Ryan’s friends. His whole life is so molded into Ryan’s that he can’t even imagine himself without the guy. Panic rises in him again, but he forces it down long enough to think.

Is he being stupid? Maybe Ryan’s right. Maybe he shouldn’t throw away everything for this. Where would he go, what would he do? Sure, his heart is broken in two right now, but maybe he should just go home. He could climb in bed and go to sleep, and in the morning when he comes downstairs to Ryan making coffee, he could just pretend nothing ever happened.

Brendon bangs the back of his head against the headrest, forcing back a new wave of tears at the idea of that, of continuing his life as it is now. He won’t go back. He won’t.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens his contact list. He scrolls down to the letter P, thumb hovering over a name that will be burned in his heart until the end of time, but then keeps scrolling. Scrolling further, to the only person in his phone he can talk to right now. He presses call and his hand shakes where it holds the phone to his ear.

“Yo! Urie, what’s up?” Pete’s voice says after only a few rings, loud and peppy as always, “haven’t heard from you in ages, man!”

Brendon closes his eyes and focuses on breathing, but he must sound so broken and messed up, because Pete can immediately tell something’s up.

“Hey, Brendon? You okay man?” he asks, attentive and serious as he talks through the phone.

“Y-yeah I…” Brendon starts before he shakes his head and starts again, “no. N-no, I’m not okay. Can I… stay with you tonight?”

Brendon doesn’t even have time to worry about how disquieting he probably sounds, because there’s barely a second between his question and Pete’s reply.

“Yeah of course, man,” Pete responds, worry and concern clear in his voice, “do you need me to pick you up?” 

Brendon starts to say no, but then he just laughs humorlessly at himself.

“I-I don’t know,” he admits, wishing he could be stronger than this.

He looks at the keys in the cupholder, looks at the gear shift, looks out the windshield. He thinks he can do this. Pete’s place isn’t that far away, it’ll only take him-

But then Brendon can hear someone talking to Pete, far away and muffled so that Brendon can’t make out the words, but he knows who it is. He knows that voice.

“It’s Brendon,” Pete explains, sounding a bit quieter, like he’s turned his face away from the phone, “something happened, he needs to stay with us tonight.”

Brendon thinks he hears that other familiar voice ask Pete if he’s alright, and feels another wave of anxiety and sadness wash over him. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on breathing, tries to not fall apart all over again.

“Y-yeah, I need you to…” he swallows hard, working to keep his words understandable, “to pick me up. Fluxx. Parking lot.”

He prays that Pete knows where that is. Or at least that he said the club name clearly enough for Pete to be able to look it up.

“Okay, I’ll be right over,” Pete explains, sounding rushed like he’s hurrying around doing something, “stay on the line.”

Brendon nods even though he knows Pete can’t see him, feeling his heart ache as that other voice talks to Pete over the line. He doesn’t know how he’s going to keep it together. Especially with that voice, the voice of Pete’s husband. But he needs them right now. Pete’s his best friend, even though they don’t talk much anymore. The fact that he was the one to sweep the guy Brendon loved, still loves, off his feet and whisk him away doesn’t change that fact. And honestly? Part of the reason Brendon called Pete anyway was because of his husband. 

Because even though Brendon’s heart is broken and lost, it still longs to see Patrick, longs to see that smile, longs to hear that voice.


End file.
